Unsung Heroes
by jackwabbit
Summary: Original Character Story With Major Sam Emphasis.  Season One.  Spoilers for 'Hathor'.  Summary: Many were intrigued by Senior Master Sergeant Betty Johnson from my story ‘Delayed Reaction’.    This is her story.


**Unsung Heroes**

Rated: PG-13

Category: Action/Adventure, Original Character, Major Sam Emphasis.

Season: One

Spoilers: Hathor

Summary: Many of you were intrigued by Master Sergeant Betty Johnson from my story 'Delayed Reaction'. This is her tale.

---

Gunfire rang out the in stillness of the nearly deserted base.

Three pairs of running feet clattered to a stop.

Sam looked to Teal'c and Janet for a moment, then turned and sprinted away from them, back in the direction they had come.

"Keep going! I'll catch up!" Sam yelled over her shoulder.

Dr. Fraiser and the big Jaffa looked dubiously after their friend for two heartbeats, then did as they'd been told.

One Goa'uld princess needed taking out, and they were the only ones who could do it.

They continued toward the locker room where they knew Hathor was cozied up with most of the men on base while Sam ran in the opposite direction.

Sam ran until she saw the inert form of General Hammond still in the hallway where she'd left him. She knew there was trouble ahead.

She slowed and checked her surroundings.

She saw no threat, so she slowly eased around the corner toward the detention room that had so recently held Teal'c.

And there, in the hall, she found an unconscious man who had not been there before. Sam didn't know this man, but she saw the weapon in his hand and the bullet holes in the walls around him and immediately deduced what had happened here.

He'd come up on the women Sam, Teal'c, and Janet had left behind to guard General Hammond and the other man they'd been forced to incapacitate in order to free Teal'c and he had obviously attempted to free his comrades.

Shots had been fired against his enemy.

Sam eased past the airman and slipped into the detention room.

She found a scene there that would never leave her memory.

One of her fellow female soldiers lay dead on the floor, a blood stain covering her chest.

The other member of the rag-tag female salvation of the SGC wasn't dead, but she was wounded, and seriously. Staff Sergeant Betty Johnson clutched a wad of pillowcase from the bunk in the room to a gaping bullet wound in her thigh in a vain attempt to slow the bleeding there.

It was a losing battle.

Sam looked down at the dead woman for a fraction of a second, then her training kicked in. She decided the details of how this had happened were unimportant for now.

She knelt by Sergeant Johnson's side and assessed the damage to the woman's thigh.

"You're hurt bad."

"Tell me something I don't know," the sergeant ground out through teeth clenched tightly in pain.

Carter never even acknowledged the enlisted woman's tone. This was no time to be thinking about insubordination. She made a few quick decisions and realized that there was nothing she could do to help Johnson herself. Her best bet was to get the base back to normal and get Johnson into the capable hands of the medical staff.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. You keep putting pressure on that wound. I'm going to drag our friends out there in here and then set you up in the hall, ok?"

Johnson nodded weakly and Sam turned to her task.

Ten minutes later, General Hammond and his two associates were starting to come to but were safely locked in Teal'c's detention room.

Betty Johnson was propped up against their door, and Sam was kneeling next to her again.

"Ok, you stay here. I'm going to get help, alright?"

Johnson nodded again and while her wound still bled, her eyes were clear and her face still held some of its natural color. She looked Sam directly in the eye for a long second, then spoke.

"Don't worry about me. Just do what needs done, Captain."

Sam stared back at the woman for a moment, then nodded herself. She stood with determination and looked down at her comrade before answering.

"You just hang in there, Johnson. I will be back."

And then Sam was gone. She never saw Betty's nod of encouragement, and she never saw the weak smile that might have let her know that the woman was more badly hurt than she let on.

But it didn't matter.

There was a job to do, and Samantha Carter was going to do it.

XXX

Sam ran through the halls of the SGC like a crazed woman.

She'd been careful at first, but when she encountered no one in the first several hallways she traveled, she became more bold. The base was essentially deserted. Almost all of the personnel were attending to 'Queen Hathor's' every need.

And frankly, that made Sam mad. She was beyond angry at what that 'woman' had done to the SGC.

So she ran pell-mell toward her target, forgetting her training in her need to get to Janet and Teal'c. She ran all out, needing to get to the Colonel and Daniel.

Her feet beat the ground, needing to reach the enemy.

Her senses were on high alert, but her body was pushing itself so hard that the only sound she heard was the rushing of her own blood in her ears.

And that fact was her undoing.

The corner came up fast.

She nearly missed it, but when she realized that she needed to turn at this intersection, it was too late to do so carefully.

And as her momentum carried her around the corner, it continued to carry her right into the chest of a patrolling airman.

Sam stumbled and fell away from the SF onto her backside.

Her weapon clattered to the concrete floor and skidded just out of her reach.

She tried to crawl away from the guard, but he cruelly reached out a foot and stepped on her left hand, grinding it into the floor.

She wasn't going anywhere.

She was unarmed.

The SF sneered down at her, a nearly feral expression on his face.

His weapon trained onto Sam's head.

Samantha Carter stared down the barrel of the gun and knew that this was it.

Here and now, she was going to die.

The SF's finger slowly applied pressure to the trigger of his rifle.

A determined look came into his eye.

There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.

Sam sent a quick prayer to the heavens and hoped like hell someone heard it.

She tried not to flinch.

She tried not to blink.

She tried to show no fear.

She stared back into the face of her killer.

Her brave façade seemed to give the SF pause for a millisecond.

His face softened ever so slightly, and a sense of something close to confusion flickered in his eyes for the briefest of moments.

And then it was gone, replaced by the same hard determination he'd shown earlier.

His finger jumped.

A shot rang out.

A single concussion in the confined space of the hallway echoed for what seemed like eternity.

Despite her intentions, Sam blinked.

She blinked and forgot to reopen her eyes.

She knew she was dead.

But then the sound of the gunshot faded, and a new one took its place.

A harsh gasp of pain could be heard in the nearly empty hallway.

Sam was confused. Painful breathing in the afterlife? That didn't seem right. Could it be hers?

She took a deep breath and felt her chest expand easily, thus ruling out herself as the source of the terrible noise.

She listened harder, eyes still clenched shut.

She heard the whir of electricity, the hum of generators, a slight scuffling sound like something being drug across a floor, and again that raspy sort of breathing.

These sounds did not fit into Carter's version of heaven. Or hell.

Sam opened one eye a crack.

Her vision returned to her in full force, and what she saw made both of her eyes jump open in alarm.

The SF lay dead on the floor in front of her, a single bullet wound through his temple. His vacant eyes stared up at the ceiling, seeing no more.

Confusion forced Sam to look around the hallway in desperation to find her savior.

She saw no one.

But she did hear that raspy, coughing, choking breath.

Carter retraced her steps, knowing the sound was behind her.

And as she stepped back into the hallway she had just traveled, she found her savior.

And an unlikely savior she was.

A woman, unconscious and half leaning on the wall, sprawled across the floor.

Blood pooled all around the limp body, covering the woman and the floor with equal opportunity.

It flowed steadily from a wound in the woman's upper left thigh.

Sam cursed under her breath.

"Dammit, Johnson! I told you to stay where you were!"

At hearing her name, the injured woman jerked awake and began mumbling in barely coherent confusion.

"What? Huh? Where? Who?"

Sam shook the woman's shoulder slightly and called out to her.

"Johnson! It's Carter. Thought I told you to stay put."

Johnson smiled weakly. "Never was too great at following orders, ma'am."

Sam smiled back, just as weakly, as she applied pressure to Johnson's wound. It was bad, and if she didn't stop the bleeding, Johnson would die. "Yeah, well… whatever. Your leg's bad off, Johnson. I'm going to have to put a tourniquet on…"

The enlisted woman interrupted. "No."

Carter's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?"

Johnson gritted out her next words. "I said no. I'll be fine. You need to go and save the base."

"In a minute. I can't leave you like this."

Johnson shook her head. "You can. You have to. Save the base. I'll be fine."

As she spoke, however, Johnson's breath gave out and she began to cough. Sam wondered what other injuries the woman had sustained in their fight to get this far. She couldn't leave her like this. She just couldn't. Sam hastily removed the injured woman's belt and wound it around Johnson's leg above her injury. She tightened it as much as she dared and was relieved to see the blood flow from the woman's wound slacken.

Johnson nodded her thanks through clenched teeth and then motioned with her head up the hall.

"Thanks. Now go!"

Carter took one last long look at the woman on the floor and nodded.

"I'll be back. Hang in there, okay?"

Johnson nodded bravely with a pale face. "Hey, I'll be fine. I've still got this."

The Sergeant brandished her sidearm in front of her, and Sam winced. She knew that there had been no choice but to shoot the guard earlier, but still, a man was dead because of Johnson, and there would likely be hell to pay for that.

Sam didn't have time for those thoughts, though, so she pushed them from her mind and stood purposefully then took off, still intent on saving what was left of her base.

XXX

The next thirty minutes were ones Sam would never fully remember, and ones that seemed to last a lot longer than half an hour. The report she would write later about them would be sketchy at best.

She would help pull a soaked Jaffa Colonel out of a hot tub. She'd fight her way to and from a sarcophagus. She'd somehow manage to avoid the bullets that would hit both Teal'c and Janet in their struggles.

The Colonel would return.

Sam would be hit hard with a Goa'uld hand device.

She'd recover.

She'd kick some serious snake ass at the perfect moment.

She and the Colonel would rescue several airmen and Daniel.

And somewhere in the middle of everything, Sam would remember about Sergeant Johnson, and she'd make sure the infirmary knew to take care of her.

Johnson would live.

But Hathor would escape.

And an SF would never rise again.

XXX

Five weeks later, at 09 00, when the SGC was essentially as back to normal as it gets, Captain Samantha Carter walked into a briefing room turned courthouse as the primary and last witness in the hearing that would decide the fate of one Staff Sergeant Betty Johnson regarding the death of Senior Airman Timothy Adams.

She was nervous and didn't quite know what to expect.

This was her first formal inquiry into the death of an airman, and her mouth was dry with anxiety as she took the improvised 'stand' to testify.

As she turned to face the room, Carter spied Colonel O'Neill leaning against the far wall. His face was impassive and his body posture revealed nothing of his internal state, but he gave the slightest nod of encouragement to his 2IC as she took a deep breath and looked expectantly at her questioner.

The next two hours were grueling. They were filled with drawings, photographs, and various other re-enactments of the fateful scene in the hallway during Hathor's foothold situation that had cost a young SF his life.

Through all of this, Sergeant Betty Johnson sat silently as the 'defendant'.

Carter did not lie.

She answered every question to the best of her ability, even when the 'prosecutor' asked her point blank if she thought the actions of Sergeant Johnson were justified to save her life.

"Yes."

"So, you believe your life was in imminent danger, Captain?"

Sam nodded. "Yes."

The interrogator smiled a wicked little grin and hesitated before asking his next question.

"Could not Sergeant Johnson have merely wounded the airman? Was a fatal shot absolutely necessary in this case?"

At these words, a cold block of ice settled in Sam's stomach. She'd been expecting this line of questioning, but she still wasn't sure how to respond. Her voice faltered a little as she answered.

"Well, yes… I mean, no."

The prosecutor's eyes narrowed. "Which is it, Captain?"

Sam swallowed, took a deep breath, then pressed on confidently, more sure of herself.

"I believe Sergeant Johnson's actions were justified given the situation. While it would've been preferable to wound the guard, the fact that Sergeant Johnson was able to get to my position and fire any shot at all is amazing given her condition at the time. She likely had no control over the trajectory of the bullet in her state. And while his actions were out of his control, the airman in question was certainly going to kill me. Let's not forget that another airman had already used deadly force against one comrade and severely wounded another in his mind-altered state. That airman was subdued without serious bodily harm by none other than Sergeant Johnson, despite the injury that she received in doing so. These men were out to kill, but Johnson still did not retaliate in kind when given the chance with the first airman. I believe that she would not have used deadly force if it were not explicitly warranted in this situation. I owe Sergeant Johnson my life. Of that I have no question. Sergeant Johnson is a hero. The loss of Airman Adams is tragic, but no fault lies with Sergeant Johnson. The only villain here went through that Stargate."

Sam's eyes bored into the prosecutor as her jaw snapped shut. She was through talking about this, and her expression dared him to ask just one more question.

He didn't.

"Thank you, Captain. You may take your seat."

The representatives for Sergeant Johnson had already questioned her, so Sam nodded and complied.

The Colonel presiding over the hearing then dismissed the room for a recess.

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. This hearing will reconvene at 13 00 for my decision regarding whether this matter will proceed to a full military tribunal."

Sam sighed, then stood and made her way out of the room with everyone else.

There was nothing left to do now but wait.

XXX

The hearing ended at about 11 00.

The next two hours seemed to drag by with excruciating slowness for Sam.

By 11 30, 13 00 seemed as if it would never come.

Sam wandered the halls of the SGC alone, trying to distract her mind from the endless wait for the decision that seemed as linked to her as it was to Betty Johnson.

At 11 45, she tried to check her e-mail as a distraction, but that didn't work, either.

At 12 00, she tried to eat lunch, but found she wasn't hungry.

By 12 30, she gave up all pretense of trying to work or anything else and returned to the briefing room. She joined the small crowd loitering around the door and waited.

There was nothing else that could be done.

Finally, 13 00 came at last, and the doors opened.

All Sam would remember that night about her second time in that room were the words 'deemed appropriate and necessary'. That, and the fact that as she stood to leave the room with a huge smile of relief on her face, Betty Johnson's eyes had found hers.

For a fraction of a second that seemed to last for eternity, understanding flashed between two woman warriors. It was the type of understanding talked about in books. No words were spoken or needed as two women, cut from the same cloth, knew in an instant that all was forgiven and all was accepted as the way things had to be.

For while Samantha Carter felt she owed her life to Betty Johnson, and while she wanted to express her thanks with all her heart in some normal way, like taking the woman to dinner or maybe even becoming friends, she knew that was never to be.

And while Betty Johnson was grateful beyond measure for all Samantha Carter had done for her, she also knew that this was the only thanks she could ever give.

For Carter was still an officer, and Johnson was still enlisted, and as such they could never be more than professional acquaintances.

All of this was understood in the space of three heartbeats.

It was merely the way it was.

XXX

Three weeks after her hearing, Sergeant Betty Johnson reported for her new job at the SGC.

Her wound had permanently removed her from field duty, but she'd been given her choice of a few non-field (and somewhat punitive) assignments within the facility.

For while she'd been cleared of all charges regarding the death of Airman Adams, the higher ups would never look kindly upon an enlisted woman who had caused the death of one of her own, no matter what the circumstances.

So Betty had chosen to work in the commissary.

It wasn't exactly what she'd signed on for all those years ago when she'd enlisted, and it certainly wouldn't test her rather developed skills with explosives, but it beat the other choices, and she still had another two years to serve before she could leave the Air Force, so she took what she could get. She thought she was lucky to even still be at the SGC, and not stuck in some missile silo somewhere in the frozen north.

Her first day was anything but stellar, however, and made missile silos seem maybe not so bad.

Nothing seemed to go her way, and at the end of the day she was tired and dirty. Her leg ached from more work than it had seen in months, and she wanted nothing more than a long soak in a nice tub of hot water to ease the stresses of the day.

And so it was that as she climbed the stairs to her apartment that night and her foot tripped over a package that had been left near her door, she cursed.

Loudly.

She wasn't expecting anything.

This had to be a mistake, and she did NOT feel like taking care of someone else's mistakes today, even if it was just to scribble a note on the box that its intended recipient didn't live here.

As Betty fumbled with her keys to open her door, the first drops of rain from what looked to be a big storm began to fall. They spattered her with icy cold water

'God, could this day get any worse?' she thought as a sigh escaped her lips.

Figuring she might as well save the package from the wetness of the rain, she bent to pick it up as she finally managed to get her door open.

As she stepped inside her apartment, she dropped the package on the entryway table and didn't give it another thought.

She went straight to the bathroom and started the water running for a bath. She rarely took baths, but today deserved one in her mind.

As the tub filled, she stripped off her dirty uniform and brushed out her tangled hair.

Then she stepped into the warm water and tried to let the worries of the day slip away from her.

It mostly worked.

Betty drifted into a kind of half sleep in the heat induced relaxation of her bath, and only reluctantly left the tub forty-five minutes later as the water began to cool.

Her leg still ached dully from its workout earlier in the day, but she was feeling a little better.

And as she wrapped herself in her plush bathrobe, although she knew her doctor would not approve, Betty couldn't help but think that a glass of wine might be just the thing to kick the rest of her bad mood to the curb.

She smiled and left the steamy bathroom for the kitchen.

Once there, she pulled open a cabinet and extracted a bottle of wine that someone had given her at a party a few months ago. She didn't know what it was, but she really didn't care.

She just wanted a glass of wine.

Setting the bottle on the counter, Betty began to rummage around in the kitchen, trying to find her corkscrew.

As she did, her eyes fell on the package by the door.

She sighed and walked to the small box. She figured she might as well be done with her small task of letting the post office know this wasn't hers.

But as she picked up the box to write upon it, her eyes widened.

The package was indeed addressed to her.

The sender's address was the SGC.

Betty's brow wrinkled in confusion for a moment, but then she shrugged.

'Might as well open it,' she thought, and she sat down on her couch to do just that.

As Betty opened the package, white tissue paper met her eyes first.

Once that was unfolded, Betty's eyes opened impossibly wide at what she saw within the box.

All thoughts of wine and finding a corkscrew vanished like smoke in a breeze.

For in the box lay another box.

This one was small and flat. It was only about one inch tall, and about four inches wide by six inches deep.

It was very dark blue, almost black, and it was made of some sort of leather.

It had gold trim and writing on the outside, but Betty hardly noticed this. She recognized the text, but she was so disbelieving of what she was seeing that she couldn't comprehend the writing.

Betty carefully removed the blue box and opened its flip top lid like a ring case.

Inside, lying squarely on a field of gold velvet, was a red, white, and blue ribbon that suspended a five-point star of bronze.

A bronze star medal.

A small slip of paper was tucked under the medal.

With trembling hands and tears in her eyes, Betty pulled the paper from its resting place.

As she unfolded it and began to read, the tears spilled from her eyes without shame.

_To Staff Sergeant Elizabeth Anne Johnson:_

_I know that circumstances will not allow the powers that be to grant you proper recognition for your outstanding service to your country at a time of great need, and so I do it for them._

_This medal was awarded to me for meritorious service, but I would not be here to receive it if not for you, so I give it to its rightful owner._

_Sincerely and With Gratitude,_

_Captain Samantha Carter_

While a pounding rain lashed at her windows outside, Betty's world narrowed to a small slip of paper, and she read the note at least ten times before she set it down and lovingly ran one finger over the cold bronze of the medal. She was completely overwhelmed.

As she thought about the petty problems that had threatened to overrun her earlier in the day, she felt a little silly. She also felt more than a little undeserving of Carter's words.

After all, Captain Carter was still out there fighting the bad guys.

All Johnson was doing was making sure the mess didn't run out of potatoes.

But she knew it would insult Carter to try to give the medal back.

She also knew that Carter could request a replacement medal later, but that was hardly the point. The Captain's gesture was overwhelming in its generosity and sincerity.

And while she would never truly feel that she deserved such an honor, Betty was going to make damn sure she continued to do her duty to the best of her ability.

She wanted to live up to the Captain's ideals.

She might only be working in the commissary now, but SG teams had to eat, didn't they?

Her job was just as important as the more glorious ones when you thought of it that way, wasn't it?

She could learn to live without explosives, right?

And heck, the SGC was still the SGC. Anything could happen.

She might not be out of the action after all, at least not permanently.

Betty was revitalized and excited for the first time in a long time.

She decided she could do this commissary thing after all.

And if a certain Captain happened to get preferential treatment in the mess from now on, well, so be it.


End file.
